


School Breaks

by little0bird



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird
Summary: Ah...  I can't leave Jonathan and George alone...  Or they won't leave me alone...





	1. Light My Candle

**Author's Note:**

> Ah... I can't leave Jonathan and George alone... Or they won't leave me alone...

'Hey, loser.'

Jonathan spun around on the piano bench.  'Well, well, well… It looks like Columbia's collective IQ just got larger.'

'Fuck you.'

'You wish,' Jonathan said flippantly.  He patted the space on the bench next to him.  'Is your dad still pissed you moved all the way to New York City?'

George dropped to the bench.  'Only when he gets the bill.'

'You still love it there?'

'Yep.'  George glanced at Jonathan.  'You still planning to audition for Juilliard?'

'Uh, the duh is silent.'

'It would be cool if you got in.  You're just a few miles from Columbia.  Think of all the trouble we could get into.'  George grinned.

Nico poked his head into the room.  'Hey. Come on. Candles, food…'

George angled his head just enough to study Jonathan.  'You like all that?'

Jonathan's brows knit together.  'What?'

'The Jewish stuff.'

'For someone who goes to a selective university, you have a shitty vocabulary,' Jonathan scoffed.  

'Fuck you.'

'Again.  You. Wish.'

George blinked and his mouth went dry.  

Jonathan continued, 'And yes, I like it.  I don't know who the hell my biological parents are.  And I don't give a shit about them. But the two guys that picked me to be their kid?  This is what they do. It makes me theirs in a way that the adoption decree doesn't.' He pushed himself to his feet.  'Come on.' He held out a hand to George, who took it and let Jonathan pull him off the bench. The momentum made George lightly bump into Jonathan.  They stared at one another, Jonathan still holding George's hand. Jonathan couldn't breathe, and it had nothing to do with his heart. Maybe it did. He tore his eyes from the curve of George's mouth.  'W-we should go before one of my dads decides to embarrass us in front of everybody…'

George swallowed hard.  Jonathan's eyes flicked up, then back down as he followed the bob of George's throat.  'Yeah…'

*****

George twiddled with a dreidel.  'Let's ditch the regular dreidel game this year.'

Jonathan dropped a stash of Hanukkah gelt between them.  'Okay. And do what?'

'If it lands here…'  George spun the dreidel between his fingers until the side with _gimmel_ showed.  'We say something the other doesn't know.'

Jonathan snorted.  'We grew up together.  We went to the same school.  You came to piano recitals. You fell asleep, but you were there.  You came to my bar mitzvah.'

'Along with half the hospital…'

'You already know everything about me.'  

George held the dreidel out to Jonathan.  'Are you sure?'

Jonathan held his hands up.  'Your game. You go first.'

George spun the dreidel.  'So we're just gonna eat all this chocolate instead of gambling with it?'

Jonathan unwrapped a chocolate coin and popped it into his mouth.  'Yep.' He glanced down. The wooden dreidel had stopped, its bright green _gimmel_ facing upward.  'Okay. Spill.'

George picked up a chocolate coin and slowly peeled the gold foil away.  'I've had a crush on you since the end of my senior year of high school.'

Jonathan's face whipped up to see George watching him intently.  'That's a long time…' His tongue felt thick and ungainly.

'I thought moving to New York would change things.  It hasn't.' George nudged the dreidel to Jonathan. 'Your turn.'

Jonathan spun the dreidel.  Without waiting for it to stop he said, 'I tell you almost everything before I tell my dads.'  He plucked another piece of gelt from the pile and quickly unwrapped it, then crammed it into his mouth.  He scooted a little closer to George, so their knees touched. 'And I think I… really… like… you.'

'You're only sixteen,' George breathed, running his fingertips up the sleeve of Jonathan's sweater, and over the arch of his cheekbones.

'Seventeen in May.  And well over the age of consent in Washington State.'

'Jesus, Jonathan…'  George cupped the back of Jonathan's head and pulled him forward just enough to fit his mouth over Jonathan's.  Jonathan lunged forward, pushing George to his back, then straddled him. George made a noise in his throat and shuddered.  ' _Fuck_.'  He rolled his hips a little, making Jonathan inhale sharply.

'If we could sneak up to my room without being seen, I would do so much more than kiss you,' he murmured against George's mouth.  'And you really like using the word fuck around me.'

George smiled and kissed Jonathan again, slowly, teasingly, tongue stroking against Jonathan's.  'If you could read minds…' He rubbed his nose over Jonathan's. 'You're damn right I wish.' Jonathan's brow rose and a mischievous grin spread over his face.  He shifted a hand and curved it over George's hardening dick. George gasped and thrust upward. 'Your house is full of people,' he managed to say. 'And we skipped a few bases…'  He sat up, wrapping Jonathan's legs around his hips. 'You're a really good kisser.'

Jonathan chuckled low in his throat.  'Henry Golding. He lives in Portland.  Summer camp the last two summers. And then he started dating someone in his day school.'  He ran his lips over the edge of George's ear, then lightly bit the lobe.

'If he taught you that, remind me to look him up and say thank you…'  George turned his head to capture Jonathan's mouth again, one hand slipping under his sweater, thumb skimming over a nipple until it stiffened into a nub of heightened sensitivity.  'And nobody would ever believe you're the bad influence here.'

'Okay…  Okay…' Jonathan rested his forehead against George's, and dragged his hand to the crest of George's hip.  'First base. Hands above the waist… So that means you can keep doing _that_.'  His lips grazed over George's throat.  'And later, I will be eternally grateful I don't have to share a room with Chris.'

George gave him an impish smile.  'I wonder what will be on your mind.'

'Shut up…'  

*****

Alex knocked on the partially-open door.  'Break it up!' he called.

'Shit…'  Jonathan scrambled off George's lap.

Alex's peered around the edge of the door.  Jonathan and George sat next to each other on the floor.  Their cheeks were flushed, mouths swollen. Both were breathing harder than spinning a dreidel could account for.  'We're leaving.'

George got to his feet and carefully tugged the tail of his shirt down over his crotch.  'See you later…' He trailed after his father and grabbed his coat from his mother, and held it in his arms, hoping it hid his tented pants.  George carefully avoided his father's penetrating gaze, while he followed them to the car and slid into the back. 

They made it to the end of the block before Alex exploded.  'Have you lost your damn mind?' he shouted, glaring at George in the rearview mirror.

'No.'

'Jonathan Schmitt-Kim?  He's still in high school!'

George stiffened.  'Aunt Meredith was twelve years younger than her first husband.  And she's more than ten years older than DeLuca. Her sister, Lexie?  She was sixteen fucking years younger than the guy she would have ended up with.  If they hadn't died, that is. Don't be such a hypocrite. You're, like, five years older than Mom.'

'Keep me out of his one,' Jo retorted.

'Jon is less than four years younger than me,' George snarled.  'He's over the age of consent, all we did was kiss, and it was _consensual_!'  He sat back, chest heaving.  'I would never force myself on anyone.  You made damn sure that I understood that one.'

Alex met George's narrowed eyes in the rearview.  'We are not done.'

George turned his head to stare out the window.  'Yes. We are.'


	2. Asking Permission

Jonathan shut the microwave and leaned against the counter, waiting for the latkes to reheat. They were better reheated in the oven, but he was hungry and didn't want to wait. Nico walked into the kitchen, and switched on the coffeemaker. 'Throw some kimchi on them,' he advised with a nod toward the microwave. 

The microwave beeped and Jonathan removed the plate, mindful of his fingertips. 'That's not kosher,' he joked. 

'It's good, though,' Nico told him. 

'You're turning into Grampa. Especially when you have a late surgery, then come home and eat kimchi out of the jar.'

Nico flushed and grabbed the carton of milk from the refrigerator. 'At least I use chopsticks.'

'Only because they slow you down. And it is not pleasant for anyone in this house later.'

'Have a good time last night?' Nico asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Jonathan swallowed. 'Yeah.' He unscrewed the lid of a jar of applesauce and smeared a dollop over the latke. 'Papa have an early surgery?'

Nico poured himself a cup of coffee and added milk to it. 'Yep.' He took a long sip. 'He likes them early. Weirdo.'

'You married him,' Jonathan shot back.

'You got me there.' Nico pulled out one of the stools at the kitchen island. 'Didn't get a chance to talk to George much last night. He still like Columbia?'

'Yeah.' Jonathan toyed with his fork. 'Dad…?'

'Hmmmm?'

'How would you feel if I dated…' Jonathan gulped. 'George?' he finished in a whisper.

Nico's head rose slowly. 'He lives three thousand miles away.'

'Yeah.'

'He's twenty and you're only sixteen.'

'You're not telling me something I don't already know, Dad.'

'Don't be a smartass,' Nico snapped.

Jonathan pushed his plate aside. 'Give me one really good reason why I shouldn't date George. And don't use the age difference. It's less than the difference between you and Papa,' he said pointedly.

Nico set his mug down. 'Fine. I like George. He's a good kid. He's smart. Clearly. Columbia doesn't take dummies. He's responsible. And to be honest, you could do a lot worse.' He sipped his coffee. 'That Shawn guy from your confirmation class, for one.'

'Dad. Ew. Shawn Fischer is the last guy I'd date. Or even make out with behind the gym at summer camp.'

Nico looked at Jonathan. 'So are you asking permission, or…?'

'I guess…?'

Nico exhaled and glanced at the ceiling. 'Be careful. Don't do anything you're not comfortable doing. Don't send dick pics. It was gross when I was your age, and it's still gross.'

'TMI, Dad…'

'Use condoms. Both of you get tested for everything. Get the Costco-sized bottle of lube. And oh my God, I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my sixteen year old son.' Nico buried his face in both hands.

Jonathan pulled his plate back toward him and cut off a bite of latke. 'Would you rather I learned this in the locker room in gym class?'

'No.' Nico made a helpless gesture. 'I just… I look at you, and I see the month-old baby we brought home from the NICU.' He smiled a little sadly. 'I'm not ready for you to grow up and you did it anyway.' He sighed. 'Are you packed?'

'Did it before everyone got here last night.'

'Good. We're heading to the airport as soon you dad gets home.'

*****

Jonathan tapped his phone. 'Hey,' he said softly, as George's face appeared on the screen.

'How's sunny LA?'

'Windy. Santa Ana winds are a bitch.' Jonathan licked his dry lips. 'How pissed is your dad about last night?'

'He thinks I'm too old for you.' George settled against the pillows on his bed. 'Like I'm robbing the cradle.'

Jonathan snickered. 'Funny. That was Dad's first reaction. He's okay with it, though. Haven't really talked to Papa yet.'

'Gonna be back for New Year's Eve? I know your dads usually come to their party, but I thought maybe you could come this year. We could hang out… watch movies…'

'Isn't that what we usually do, but at my house?'

'Yeah, but after last night do you really think my dad will let me be alone with you?'

'Good point.' Jonathan yawned. 'Okay, I need to go to sleep. Grampa believes in getting an early start to the day. So family breakfast at eight sharp. And no pjs at the table, so we have to be up and dressed. And after breakfast, we all take a nice walk on the beach.'

'Wow.'

'Yeah.' Jonathan slid under the quilt and pulled it up to his chin. 'G'night, George.'

'Night, Jon.'


	3. First Day of School

'George!  Your ride will be here in ten minutes!' Jo called, pouring coffee into a travel mug.  

 

George darted into the kitchen, shrugging into his blazer, tie flapping around his neck.  'First day of senior year,' he said, opening the refrigerator and taking out the containers with his lunch.  

 

'Yeah.  You should be thrilled I'm not making you do that first day photo thing.'  Jo pushed an insulated bag across the counter and George stowed his lunch into it.  'You have practice after school?'

 

George shook his head.  'Nah. I'll catch a ride with somebody.'  He used the kitchen window as a mirror in order to wind his tie into a knot.  'How do I look?' He spread his arms out, so Jo could examine him.  Navy blazer, pressed white button down shirt, navy-and- forest green striped tie, black pants, and black shoes comprised his school uniform.  Jo motioned for him to turn around and she smoothed down his upturned shirt collar. 

 

'Perfect.'  Jo sipped her coffee.  'Try not to get into a fight this year…' she warned.

 

George scowled.  'I haven't gotten into a fight since ninth grade,' he huffed, picking up his backpack.  'And that was because Timothy Schettner called me a fag,' he added.

 

'I know.  I just…' 

 

A car horn beeped once outside.  'Gotta go,' George said, grabbing his lunch.  'I promise. I won't do anything to jeopardize getting into an Ivy League school.'  He gave Jo a swift peck on her cheek. 'Even though going to Udub won't be the end of the world.'  He winked cheekily at her then ran out the front door. 'Bye!' George opened the back passenger door of the car and slid in the back next to Jonathan.  'Morning, Dr. Kim.'

 

Nico glanced at George in the mirror.  'Call me Nico,' he sighed for what felt like the millionth time.  

 

George glanced at Jonathan.  His uniform was painfully new and he looked paler than usual, apprehension making his eyes wide.  'Nervous?' Jonathan nodded, lips pressed tightly together. 'Lemme see your schedule…' Jonathan dug a folded piece of paper from the front pocket of his backpack and wordlessly handed it to George.  George unfolded it and scanned the schedule. 'English with Nelson. Yeah, she's okay. Likes to make you write a lot of journals. History with Watson… She's kinda new, but I hear she's decent. Lots of hands-on stuff.  Algebra II with Smallshaw. He's good. Always gives you the last twenty minutes of class to start your homework in class, so you can ask questions. Stamets for Bio. Don't tell him your parents are doctors at first. He'll think you know everything, otherwise.  Chorus…?' George peered at Jonathan over the edge of the paper. 'You sing?' 

 

Jonathan nodded.  'Some, but not good enough for varsity chorus.  I'm doing the piano accompaniment for the class.'  He rearranged his backpack on his lap. 'I'm getting fine art credit for it.'

 

'Cool.'  George went back to the schedule.  'French II… Hey… I have French II fifth period with Madame Delphine.'  He handed Jonathan the schedule. 'You can sit with me.'

 

The corner of Jonathan's mouth quirked up in a ghost of a smile.  'Thanks.'

 

Nico sighed inwardly with relief.  Jonathan was introverted and shy among large groups of people he didn't know.  He pulled into the circular drive in front of the school. 'One of us will pick you up at three,' he said to Jonathan, twisting around to face the back.  'Okay?'

 

'Okay.'  Jonathan took a deep breath to steel himself, then opened the car door.  'Bye, Dad…' He climbed out of the car and walked around the back. 

 

George paused.  'Thanks, Dr. Kim.  I'll keep an eye out for him today.'  Nico nodded and George joined Jonathan on the walk.  'Most of the guys here are nice. There's a handful of assholes, but every class has them.  Just ignore them.' He opened the front door of the main building. 'Freshman wing is that way,' he said pointing to the left.  

 

'I remember,' Jonathan muttered.  

 

'I can save you a seat at lunch,' George remarked.

 

Jonathan's fingers tightened on the strap of his backpack.  'I'm sure you've got friends…'

 

'Lunch.  Most of my friends are cool and they don't give a crap about who sits with us.'

 

'Okay…'  Jonathan turned toward the freshman wing.  

 

'And French!' George called.  Jonathan waved absently as his eyes swiveled from one side of the hall to the other, looking for his homeroom.  George wound his fingers through the straps of his backpack. 'Good luck, man,' he added under his breath. 

 

*****

 

Jonathan dropped into the chair next to George.  'I think my brain has melted out of my ears.'

 

'First day always sucks,' George agreed.  He stiffened as a trio of boys tumbled into the classroom.  'Fuck,' he breathed. Timothy Schettner sauntered the the table next to the one occupied by George and Jonathan and made a production about claiming it.

 

Jonathan uncapped a pen, and began doodling in the margins of his notebook.  'Know him?'

 

'Unfortunately,' George said shortly.

 

' _ Bonjour, monsieurs! _ ' Madame Delphine chirped.  She began to take attendance, working her way down the roster.  'George Karev?'

 

'Here.'  George raised a hand.

 

'Jonathan Kim?'

 

'Schmitt-Kim,' Jonathan said automatically.

 

'Excuse me?' the teacher asked blankly.

 

Jonathan heaved a sigh.  It would be the fifth time he'd done this today.  'My name. It's Jonathan Schmitt-Kim. Not Jonathan Kim.'

 

'That's not what's on the roster.'

 

'Your roster's wrong,' Jonathan snapped.  He hated when the schools assumed Schmitt was a middle name and left it off.  It erased Levi.

 

'Ooookay,' Madame Delphine murmured, scribbling a note on the clipboard in her hand.

 

'Every damn class,' Jonathan said under his breath.

 

'They'll get it fixed by the time you're a senior,' George said out of the corner of his mouth.

 

Attendance done, Madame Delphine passed out the syllabus, textbooks, then set them to do the review of French I at the beginning.  

 

'Psst.'

 

George ignored Schettner's unsubtle attempt to get his attention.  

 

'Psst.'

 

Jonathan glanced up, frowned, then went back to his work.

 

'Hey!  Fresh meat…'

 

George's head snapped back.  'What did you say?'

 

'What?' Jonathan hissed.

 

Schnetter tilted his chair back.  'What the hell kind of name is Schmitt-Kim?'

 

Jonathan rolled his eyes.  'Uh, hyphenated? Or is that too difficult for you to understand?'

 

'No, I mean the Schmitt-Kim…' Schettner shot back.

 

'Jewish.  Korean.'

 

'What?'  Schettner looked genuinely bewildered.

 

Jonathan set his pen down.  'I have two dads,' he began, speaking slowly with exaggerated patience.  'One is Jewish. Well, both are, but one's last name is Schmitt. My other dad is Korean.  He converted. My younger brother, sister, and I have hyphenated last names.'

 

Schettner gave Jonathan a once-over.  'You don't look Jewish,' he stated. 'Or Korean.'

 

'Funny, you don't look like an asshole, but here we are,' Jonathan sneered.  It was enough to make Shettner shut up. He picked up his pen and resumed the review.

 

'Good job,' George murmured.

 

'I hate guys like that.'  Jonathan glanced up from the textbook.  'They bring out the worst in me.'

 

George nudged the back of Jonathan's hand with his own.  'It was great. I wish I'd thought of that when I was in ninth grade.'

 

'What'd he say to you?'

 

George shrugged.  'Called me a fag. Said it's why I wrestle.  'Cause real men don't put their hands all over another guy's ass.'  His mouth twisted. 'I punched him. He went down like a sack of rocks.'  George grinned wryly. 'Nobody called me a fag again after that.' He paused.  'At least not to my face.'

 

'Were you out then?' Jonathan asked curiously.

 

'Yeah.'

 

'Oh.'  Jonathan twiddled with his pen.  'I am,' he stammered. 'Gay, I mean.'

 

George felt his heart skip a beat.  'You are?' He didn't pause to question why his palms were suddenly damp.  He rubbed his hands over the knees of his pants. 'Your dads know?'

 

Jonathan snickered.  'They think it's hilarious, considering I'm not biologically related to them.  Papa said it was kismet.' He drew the rough outline of the tree outside the classroom window in the margin of his notebook.  'It's not widespread knowledge, but the important people know.'

 

George's face grew warm.  'Am I one of the important people?'

 

'Yeah.'

 


	4. After Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the first episode of my George and Jonathan spin-off... lol!

Jo watched Alex pace around their bedroom.  'What is your problem with Jonathan? He's adorable.'

 

'And he's sixteen,' Alex shot back.

 

'So?'  Jo squeezed a dollop of lotion into her hand and began to rub it into her arms.  

 

'George is twenty!'

 

'He was nineteen two months ago,' Jo said pointedly.  'If he was still nineteen, would you have an objection?'

 

Alex stopped in the middle of the floor.  'What?'

 

'Is it the number that bothers you?  Is it the sixteen and the twenty? If George was twenty-four and Jonathan was twenty, would you have a problem with that?'

 

'Well, no…'

 

'Is it because you think Jonathan is too immature?'

 

'I…'  

 

'Because he's not.  And you know that, if you stopped freaking out about the fact you saw them kissing.'  Jo slid under the duvet. 'Besides, what makes you think George initiated any of it?'

 

Alex could only stare, open-mouthed.

 

'Plus,' Jo continued blithely, 'the more you tell George no, the more he's going to want Jon.  You're making him forbidden fruit. And Jon is over the age of consent.' Alex crawled onto the bed, and faced Jo.  'Let them hang out, or date, or whatever they want to call it. George is going back to New York in a couple of weeks.  And after that, the worst they can do is send each other steamy text messages.'

 

'Unless George wants to come to Seattle for spring break.'  Alex rolled onto his back and folded his arms over his chest.

 

'So what if he does?  And so what if they fool around a little?'

 

'I don't want him to break the kid.  I like Jonathan.'

 

'I don't think he will.' Jo settled into her pillow.  'Night…'

 

'Night,' Alex murmured, staring at the ceiling.

 

*****

 

Nico watched the waves curl onto the beach, while Jonathan picked his way across the sand, carrying two cups.  He handed the larger one to Nico. 'One triple-shot Americano, espresso poured over the hot water. Jesus, Dad.  Are you always this picky about caffeine?'

 

'Only the first of the day,' Nico replied.  

 

Jonathan shivered a little in his hoodie.  'So what's so important that you had to drag me out here before anyone else was up?'

 

'I won the coin toss.'  Nico laughed quietly. 'Levi wanted to do this, but…'

 

'Do what?'

 

'Talk to you about George.'

 

'Oh, he'd be freaking out for sure,' Jonathan murmured, sipping his mint tea.  

 

'Well, that,' Nico agreed.  'And there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about.'

 

'Like…?'

 

Nico strode toward the water.  'Sex.'

 

'Oh.'  Jonathan wasn't sure if the warmth in his face was due to the steaming tea or a fleeting sense of mortification.

 

'Your dad and I have tried to be honest with you, especially when you told us you were gay.'

 

'I know…  use condoms, lots of lube,' Jonathan muttered into his tea.  'Tab A into Slot B…'

 

'Get tested.'

 

'Even if I've never done anything?' Jonathan asked, startled.

 

'Yes.  Get into the habit of doing it.  They can do it at the clinic at Grey+Sloan, and your dad and I will never know.'

 

'Okay.'

 

'Let's say you and George decide to…'  Nico took a sip of his coffee.

 

'Fuck?' Jonathan suggested.

 

'You kiss your dads with that mouth?' Nico asked, nudging Jonathan with an elbow.

 

'I blame the ritzy all-boys private school you send me to.  Thousands of dollars of tuition, and we all swear like sailors.'

 

'I was gonna say have sex -- and there's a lot you can do that doesn't involve penetrative sex -- tell him what you want.  Tell him what feels good.'

 

'Use my words?' Jonathan snickered.  

 

'Smart ass,' Nico sighed.  'I'm serious. Because if you  _ don't _ want to do something, you have to tell him.  And if he respects you at all, he'll listen. If you’re ever with anybody who won’t listen to you, get out. I don’t care if you have to call one of us at two in the morning.’

 

'Got it.'

 

'The door on your bedroom doesn't lock,' Nico said, glancing down at Jonathan's bent head.  'Levi and I have agreed that we will respect your privacy. If the door is closed, we'll knock.  Although if you don’t answer after a few minutes, we’re coming in,’ he warned. 

 

'Erm…'  Jonathan's cheeks burned.  'I don't think we'd actually do much with you in the house…'  He took a gulp of his tea. 'I mean, ew.'

 

'I'm just saying, I'd rather you rounded third base somewhere safe, than in the backseat of someone's car or some rathole of a motel on the 405.'  Nico took another sip of his coffee. 'We won't pry. But if you have questions or aren't sure about what to do because the guy is pressuring you to do things you don't want to do, come talk to us.'

 

Jonathan scuffed his shoe in the sand.  'You're being really calm about all this,' he commented.  

 

Nico laughed.  'Would it bother you to know I'm not?'

 

'No.'

 

'I won't lie.  It could get uncomfortable, but we will try to be honest with you.'

 

'You really mean all this?  You're not just trying to be the cool dads?'

 

'Oh. Ew.  No.' Nico wrinkled his nose.  'If you're supposed to be keeping an eye on Chris and Lily, we expect you to do that, and not be shut up with George in your bedroom, with your hand down his pants.'

 

Jonathan choked on his tea.  'Duly noted,' he gasped.

 

*****

 

The television flickered in the dark living room.  Chris curled up on one end of a sofa, blinking sleepily at the screen.  'Go to bed,' Jonathan ordered, nudging him with his toes.

 

'You can't boss me aroun',' Chris mumbled.

 

Jonathan rolled his eyes.  'Dude. Yes, I can. Until I move out and go to college.  And the parental units said you had to be in bed before one.  Not half-falling off the couch. Here's your official warning.'

 

'But I wan' stay up 'til midnight an' watch the ball drop,' Chris whined.

 

'You missed it,' Jonathan said.  He reached for his phone on the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and empty ginger ale bottles.  'It's, like, twelve-thirty.'

 

'Oh…  Fine...'  Chris all but rolled off the couch and shuffled to the stairs, a blanket trailing from one hand.  'I can't wait for you to move out…'

 

'Happy New Year to you, too!' Jonathan called, switching off the television.

 

'Yeah…'  

 

Jonathan waited until he heard Chris' bedroom door close.  'Finally,' he breathed, launching himself at George, who squeaked in surprise.  'When do you have to go home?'

 

'Dad said I could stay.  Like I always do.' George ran his palm over Jonathan's back.  'You should have seen his face.' George mimicked Alex's curled-lip expression of dismay.  'You'd think I couldn't keep my hands to myself.'

 

'Excellent.'  Jonathan pushed himself off George.  'Because I'm not planning to sleep any time soon.'  He stepped away from the sofa. 'Coming?'

 

'Jon…'

 

'I wanna pick up where we left off last time,' Jonathan admitted.  

 

George swung his feet to the floor and stood up, then let Jonathan tow him up the stairs to his bedroom. The room itself was painfully tidy -- no sheet music scattered over the desk; books neatly stacked on the bedside table or shelved in the bookcase; the bed neatly made, pillows carefully piled against the headboard.  It smelled of Jonathan's soap, the fragrance wafting from the small bathroom and lemon furniture polish. 'What'd you do? Spend the whole day making it look like you don't live here?' George said softly, mindful of Chris and Lily sleeping across the hall. 

 

'Something like that.'  Jonathan closed the door behind them and switched on the lamp at his desk.  'It's usually kinda messy.'

 

George chuckled quietly.  'I remember.' He reached through the space separating them, and drew Jonathan closer.  'What do you want?'

 

'Can I touch you?'

 

George took one of Jonathan's hands and lifted it to his face, turning his head to kiss the palm.  Jonathan let his hand drift softly down over George's chest and stomach. He grasped the hem of George's t-shirt.  'May I?' George grinned and held his arms over his head. Jonathan gathered the shirt in his hands and pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor.  'Oh…' The backs of his fingers brushed over the line of dark hair that emerged from the waistband of George's sweatpants and rose to swirl around his navel.  The muscles in George's stomach jumped at Jonathan's light touch. Jonathan's other hand floated up and came to rest just under George's collarbone, hand spread over the pale skin.  Jonathan took a step forward and pressed his mouth to the base of George's throat. Jonathan fingered the knot in the drawstring of George's sweatpants. 'Can I take these off?'

 

George plucked at the knot, his shaking hands making the task more difficult.  He finally shoved them down to his ankles. Jonathan bit his lower lip, eyeing the tented fabric of George's boxers.  ‘You seem to have a problem,’ he observed, 

 

George toyed the the hem of Jonathan’s henley. ‘I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.’

 

Jonathan's hand closed around George's wrist.  'In the name of full disclosure, I should warn you, I'm practically hairless.'  The corner of his mouth curled up in a wry grin. 'I hope plucked chickens turn you on.'

 

'Absolutely,' George said with a straight face.  'I get hard every time I walk by the poultry section in the grocery store.'

 

'Oh, good.  Then you won't be disappointed.'  Jonathan grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head.

 

George traced over the thin scar that ran down Jonathan's chest with a fingertip.  'Does it hurt?'

 

'No.'

 

George nodded and let his hands rest on Jonathan's waist.  He lowered his mouth to Jonathan's, and kissed him. 'This is where it gets awkward,' George murmured.  

 

'What do you mean?'

 

George glanced at the bed.  'We could stay here and end up on the floor, but it's kinda chilly and uncomfortable.  Or… you have a nice, warm bed.'

 

'I vote for the bed.'  Jonathan made a small gesture.  'Do we…?' He exhaled gustily. 'I mean, I've pictured this a million times since Haunukkah, but it always went much smoother in my head.'

 

'It usually does.'  George began to walk backward, taking Jonathan with him.  When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, George sat down and scooted back until he was able to lie back.  He urged Jonathan lie next to him. 'What else do you want?'

 

Jonathan hooked a finger into the waistband of George's boxers.  'I want these off,' he murmured. George grinned and wriggled out of the boxers, tossing them aside.  Jonathan propped himself up on an elbow. 'You're amazing,' he said, trailing his fingers over George's thigh.  

 

'Stop…'

 

'No, really.'  Jonathan palmed George’s balls, then lightly stroked his cock. 

 

George’s hands fisted into the duvet.  Jonathan fingers closed around the shaft and he slowly slid his hand to the tip, thumbing over the head.  George hissed through his teeth. 'Harder,' he rasped.

 

Jonathan tightened his fingers, and George began to thrust, matching the pace Jonathan set.  George blindly reached for Jonathan and roughly pulled him down, fingers wound tightly in his hair.  'Ooof.' Jonathan grunted as he landed awkwardly. George turned his head on the pillow and kissed Jonathan hard, moaning.  George's back arched and his hips stilled as he came, pulsing into Jonathan's hand. Jonathan reached for one of the washcloths he kept stashed in a cubby of his headboard and began to swab George's stomach clean, then wiped off his right hand.  He balled up the washcloth and aimed it toward the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. 

 

George lifted his head from the pillow.  'You have too many clothes on.'

 

'I got distracted.'

 

'Let me help.'  George sat up and wound his around around Jonathan's waist.  His momentum pushed Jonathan onto his back. George slanted his mouth over Jonathan's.  He could lose himself in kissing Jonathan. He certainly lost all sense of time. 

 

Jonathan took one of George's hand and pressed it to his dick.  'I thought you were gonna help me out here…'

 

George grazed his lips down Jonathan's throat and chest, tongue flicking over the surgical scar.  He grasped Jonathan's pajama bottoms, and Jonathan obligingly lifted his hips just enough for George to strip them off.  George braced himself on his elbows. 'You are  _ not _ hairless,' he informed Jonathan dryly.  He bent his head to press a kiss to the inside of Jonathan's thigh.  'Definitely not.'

 

Jonathan had been prepared for the dry warmth of George's hands.  He was completely caught off guard by wet heat of George's mouth closing around the head of his cock.  ' _ Fuck! _ ' he breathed.  Jonathan lifted a hand and let his rest on the back of George's head, fingers slowly combing through his hair.  He was going to come much too quickly. 'Slow down,' he murmured.

 

'Hmmmm?' George hummed.

 

'Slow.  Down,' Jonathan ground out through clenched teeth.  George glanced up Jonathan through his lashes. Jonathan's teeth were set in his lower lip, eyes squeezed shut.  He slowed to a pace that would have driven him crazy, but Jonathan seemed to enjoy it. 'George… I'm gonna…' Jonathan warned, pushing ineffectively at George's head.  His toes curled into the duvet as he came, lips pressed together to muffle the grunt that seemed to come from deep in his chest.

 

George waited until Jonathan's cock stopped pulsing against his lips, then released it and swallowed, resting his cheek on Jonathan's stomach.

 

'Did you…?' Jonathan asked.

 

'Yes.'

 

Jonathan let that sink in while he skimmed his fingers through George's hair.  'Do you always…?'

 

'No.'  George closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Jonathan's gentle touch.  

 

'Oh…'  Jonathan shivered a little, despite the warmth of George's body over his.  

 

'Cold?' George asked quietly.  

 

'A little,' Jonathan confessed.

 

'C'mon…'  George got to his knees and reached for the edges of the duvet and the top sheet on the other side of the bed, tugging them down.  Jonathan rolled over and grasped the sheet and duvet on his side of the bed and slid under the bedding. George joined him, and they faced each other, noses nearly touching.  'Happy new year, Jon.'

 

'Happy new year.'

  
  
  


*****

 

The Uber driver drove off into the rainy night.  Levi glanced up at the house. Jonathan's bedroom window glowed dimly in the darkness.  'Must've fallen asleep with the light on,' he murmured.

 

'Wouldn't be the first time,' Nico replied, tilting his face up to the cold raindrops.  He felt overheated from the combination of alcohol, dancing, and the stuffy car that had dropped them off.  

 

Levi fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. Jonathan had left a small lamp on in the entrance and the hall light on upstairs. ‘I’m gonna check on the kids,’ he whispered, heading up the stairs. 

 

‘Mmmm-hmmm.’  Nico yawned and switched off the lamp, then followed Levi upstairs. 

 

Chris and Lily’s bedroom doors were partially open. Lily was curled into a ball, spooning her cat, Dumbledore, who lifted his head at the intrusion. Levi bent to press a kiss on Lily’s temple, then gave the cat a brief scratch between his ears. Chris lay on his back, one arm flung over his head, the duvet sliding off the side of his bed. Levi carefully tugged it back into place, then smoothed the hair off Chris’ forehead. He turned to Jonathan’s door and reached for the doorknob out of long habit. ‘Levi, wait!’ hissed Nico. 

 

‘What?’ Levi whispered, as the door swung open. He took a single step into Jonathan’s  bedroom, and stood frozen on the threshold, taking in the sight of Jonathan, sprawled on his back.  George lay on his stomach, one arm thrown over Jonathan’s waist. Levi’s head swiveled to Nico, mouth falling open. Nico grabbed Levi by the wrist and pulled him down the hallway to their bedroom, then with great control, managed to close the door before Levi could panic. 'Were they…? Levi asked. 

 

'I think so…'

 

'Did they…?'

 

'I have no idea.' Nico took off his suit jacket and draped it over the foot of the bed. 'I don't think so, but if they did…’  He shrugged. 

 

Levi began to pace around the room.  'I mean, there would be condom wrappers on the floor and wads of tissues…'  He stopped and spun on a heel to face Nico. 'Oh my God, what if they didn't use a condom?'

 

‘I’m pretty sure Jonathan would insist on condoms.  He’s not gonna let George bareback him. And I highly doubt George would let Jon do the same. Not after all our lectures.’  Nico pulled one shoe off, then the other. 

 

Levi resumed pacing, tottering slightly. ‘Are you sure?’

 

Nico plopped on the foot of the bed. ‘I’m sure. We didn’t take all those walks in L.A. for kicks and giggles.’  He loosened his tie. 'And I was with him when he bought a box condoms.' 

 

Levi ran his hands through his hair.  'I know we said it was okay for him to date George,' he began.  ‘I know we assured them we would respect their privacy…’

 

'Levi.'  Nico pushed himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around Levi from behind.  'We know where they are. They're safe. They're in a relationship with a lot of like, at the very least.  And respect. And I am going to go back out there and close his door. We will give them their privacy. We promised.'

 

'But…'

 

'And in the morning, we will make French toast for breakfast.  And we can talk about it with them calmly after breakfast. And we will not do or say anything that will remotely make them shame spiral.'  Nico tilted Levi's face up. 'It's going to be fine.'

 


	5. Flirting

Jonathan waited for the dancers to leave the studio.  It was their last class of the day and he wasn’t about to let himself get plowed into a wall by a horde of hungry dance students. He saw George leaning against the wall in the hallway, a canvas bag dangling from his hand.  One of the dancers lingered, pulling her sweatpants over her leotard. 'I like it when you play for our class,' she said, tucking a stray lock of hair back into her bun. 'You change it up a lot.'

 

'Thanks.'  Jonathan picked up his sweater.  He usually stripped off any outer layers, because the studio got stuffy.

 

The dancer grabbed his wrist and peered at Jonathan's left arm.  'What's up with the dates?' she asked, running a finger over the tattoo on the middle of inside of his forearm.

 

'My birthday, the day my adoption was finalized, and the day I received a heart transplant,' Jonathan told her, gently removing his wrist from her grasp.  He yanked the sweater over his head and waved at George.

 

'Who's that guy?' the dancer asked.  'He's always in the hallway after class.'

 

'My boyfriend,' Jonathan said.  'He's at Columbia. Bioengineering.'

 

The dancer drooped a little in disappointment.  'Oh. Bioengineering. How'd you meet?'

 

Jonathan picked up his backpack.  'We grew up together in Seattle. Our parents worked in the same hospital.  We went to the same school.'

 

'Why does he come here?'  She picked up her own bag.  

 

'He brings dinner on Wednesdays.  We eat, then I practice while he does research or works on his classes.'

 

'That's…'  The dancer glanced at George, who had started drumming the fingers of one hand against his other forearm.  'That's the weirdest date night routine I've ever heard of.'

 

'Our parents are surgeons.  We learned to make time from them.'  Jonathan settled his backpack on his shoulders.   'I do the same thing, but I take dinner to his lab on Fridays.'  He walked out into the hallway. 'Hey.'

 

'What took so long?'  George fell into step next to Jonathan.

 

Jonathan glanced over his shoulder.  The poor dancer from the studio was trudging away in the opposite direction.  'I think she was trying to flirt with me,' he said sheepishly in a low voice, jerking his head toward the dancer.  

 

'Huh.  Can't blame her, really.  You are cute,' George said.  'I'd flirt with you.' He slid his fingers between Jonathan's.  'I'd do it better than she did.'

 

'Oh, really?'  Jonathan squeezed George's hand.  'Do tell.'

 

George lifted the bag in his other hand.  'I got your dad to teach me how to make his risotto.'

 

Jonathan's mouth rounded in a silent  _ oooooh _ of appreciation.  'If I wasn't already sleeping with you, I would be naked and in your bed before you could feed me the first spoonful.'

 

George laughed.  'Then it's not flirting.  It's foreplay.' The playful smile on his face changed and his eyes darkened.  'Or we could take this back to my place. You can spend the night…'

 

Jonathan inhaled slowly.  'I want to. But I have to practice.  And you won't go to bed until three in the morning or something stupid, and I get up at six.  And my music theory class is getting together to do our homework. And it has to be tonight, because the class...'

 

'Meets at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning,' George finished.  He shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. 'I hate your music theory class,' he groaned. 

 

Jonathan snickered.  'Join the club.' He opened the door to a stairwell and went down into the basement and rummaged in his backpack for the key to the practice room he shared with a fourth year student.  'And whatever it is you want to do right now… Save it. For Friday.'

 


	6. Requiem

'George?'  

 

George was lost in the series of calculus equations on the paper on his desk.  

 

'George Karev!'

 

The tip of his pencil hovered over the paper, double checking his calculations before he wrote down the answer.

 

' _ Mister _ Karev!'  

 

George lifted his head.  'Huh?'

 

Mr. Suarez held out a yellow slip of a paper.  'You need to go to the office.'

 

'But I'm not done…' George murmured.

 

'You can come finish it at lunch.'  Mr. Suarez told him, collecting George's test.  

 

George took the slip and picked up his backpack.  He wandered to the office, solving the next equation in his head.  He pushed the door open, blinking at the bright, sunny room, still so lost in calculus that he nearly walked into his father, standing at the counter that ran half the length of the room.  George dropped the slip into a bin on the counter. Alex was still in his dark blue scrubs, swathed in a Grey+Sloan jacket. Alex never wore scrubs outside the hospital. 'What happened?' George's voice rose in slight hysteria with his next question.  'Is something wrong with Mom?'

 

'Your mom's fine.'  Alex gestured to the row of chairs.  'Wanna sit?'

 

George sank to a chair, still in a daze.  'Then why are you here?'

 

Alex took the chair next to George.  'Your grandmother died,' he said quietly.

 

George's eyes bugged.  'Louise died?'

 

'No.'  Alex frowned and took a deep breath.  'My mom died. Your mom and I are flying out to Iowa tonight to help your aunt Amber with the arrangements.'  Alex shifted, looking uncomfortable. 'Do you want to come with us? Go to the funeral?'

 

'I… Uh…'  George's mind went blank.  

 

Alex put a hand on George's knee and squeezed it.  'It's okay if you don't. I know you've got school…'  Alex hunched his shoulders. 'I'm saying it's okay for you to stay here.'

 

'O-o-okay.'  George looked down at his hands.  'I think I wanna stay,' he murmured.

 

'Okay.'  

 

George's eyes darted up.  'You're not mad at me…?'

 

Alex's face softened.  'Oh… No. I get it, all right?'  He patted George's knee. 'Come on.  I'm taking you home. You need to go get the rest of your stuff?'

 

'But I have a calculus test to finish,' George protested vaguely.

 

'I'll send a message to Suarez.  You can finish it tomorrow.' Alex looked at the secretary.  'Can he get a pass for his locker?' 

 

The secretary scrawled something on a notepad and ripped off the top page and set it on the edge of her desk.  George retrieved it and mumbled, 'I'll be a few minutes.' He made his way to his locker, and removed the novel he was reading for English, his physics textbook, and his French textbook, wondering why he bothered.  He doubted he'd be able to concentrate. 

 

Back in the office, George stuffed his books into his backpack and heaved it to his shoulders.  Alex stood at the counter, scrawling George's name and his own on the clipboard. 'Ready?'

 

'Yeah.'  George followed Alex out to the car and slid into the passenger seat.  'Do I have to stay at home by myself?' he blurted.

 

Alex turned to study George.  'No. I'll call Nico or Levi. See if you can stay with them.'

 

'Okay.'

 

*****

 

'We'll call you when the plane lands,' Jo said, hugging George tightly.  'It'll probably be late, so I'll just leave a message.' She drew back a little, George's face between her hands.  'I don't have to tell you to mind Nico and Levi.'

 

'Mom, I'm eighteen.  Not eight.'

 

'I know.  Just… Clean up after yourself.  And don't leave your dirty socks in the middle of the living room floor.'

 

George rolled his eyes and gave his mother another hug.  'I promise I will be on my very best behavior.' He kissed her cheek.  'Safe trip.'

 

Jo gently patted George's cheek.  Alex pulled George into a hug, slapping his back.  'What your mother said.' He examined George once again.  'Right. See you in a week.'

 

'Bye, Dad.'  George watched Alex and Jo get into the car and drive away.  He sighed and turned back to the house and let himself inside, toed his shoes off at the front door, then wandered into the kitchen.  Levi stood at the island pouring hot chocolate into a mug. He pushed it toward George. 'Is hot chocolate supposed to make everything better?' George asked, sliding onto a stool, wrapping his hands around the mug.

 

'Can't hurt,' Levi said.

 

'Is that your professional opinion?'  

 

Levi laughed.  'Yes.'

 

George sipped the hot chocolate.  'It's good,' he said, surprised. 'It's really good.'

 

'My mom's recipe.  For use in high stress situations.'  Levi set the pot in the sink. 'I'm going to go pick up Chris and Lily from school.  The guest room's all made up for you. Go make yourself comfortable. Dinner's going to be late.  Chris has swim practice and Jonathan's got a piano lesson, then recital practice. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry.'

 

'Thanks, Dr. Schmitt.'

 

'It's Levi.'  Levi smiled and patted George on the shoulder.  'I should be back in about an hour.' He left the house, and George picked up the mug of hot chocolate.  It was the kind of thing Louise O'Malley would have done. George's mouth puckered as he suppressed the sob that rose in his throat.

 

*****

 

George sprawled over Jonathan's bed, conjugating irregular French verbs.  'Got any Bio homework tonight?' he asked. 

 

Jonathan shook his head.  'No. Stamets was out today.  Someone made something with mushrooms for a staff lunch yesterday and he didn't realize there were mushrooms in it until he ate it.'  Jonathan puffed out his cheeks. 'Blew up like a blowfish. Had to call 911, paramedics took him away.'

 

'How did I miss that?'

 

'Because senior wing is way the hell on the other side of the building and upstairs.'

 

'Damn.  Wish I'd seen that.  I hated Stamets.' George shifted to his side, head on his upturned palm.  ''Math?'

 

'Nope.  Finished it in class.'  He held up a book. 'Nelson's making us read  _ Hamlet _ .'  He considered the cover the book in his hand.  'Although, we do get a cool graphic novel version.  She went on a rant for a good ten minutes about English teachers who try to force kids to read Shakespeare like it's a novel, when it's meant to be seen.'

 

'"Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love…"' George quoted.  

 

'Usually people go for "To be or not to be..."' Jonathan commented.  

 

George's mouth twisted into a wry smile.  'I always liked Ophelia best. Poor thing.  Everyone always tried to use her for something…  Her father to spy on Hamlet. Polonius and Claudius to set a trap.  Hamlet to make everyone think he was crazy. Her father just shits all over the idea that Hamlet might actually love her.  And she couldn't trust anybody in that castle. No wonder she had a mental breakdown.'

 

'Hamlet's an ass,' Jonathan declared.

 

'Don't let Nelly hear you say that.  Well, don't say ass. And use evidence from the text.'

 

'He certainly didn't love her,' Jonathan stated, opening the book to Ophelia's funeral.  He held the book up so George could see it. 'All the weeping and wailing… He's just putting on a show for everyone.  Did he really love her? If he did, he could have let her in on the plan. Instead, he left her twisting in the wind. Horatio knew everything…'

 

'Are you debating  _ Hamlet _ tomorrow?'

 

'Yep.'

 

George smiled wistfully.  'That was a fun class. You'll like it.'  He sat up and closed his French textbook. 'Can I tell you something?'

 

'Yeah.'

 

'I don't know what to feel about my grandmother.  Helen Karev, I mean.'

 

'Okay.'

 

'She didn't travel much, and we only went to Iowa once a year.  And we talked over video chat a lot. But if I feel nothing about the fact that she's dead, does that make me a horrible human being?'

 

'You really feel nothing?' Jonathan inquired gently.

 

George traced the lettering on the cover of his textbook, while he contemplated Jonathan's question. 'Guilt,' he said after a long pause.   'When Dad said my grandmother died, I immediately thought it was Louise. I never even thought it might be Helen.' George flopped over to his back.  'And I did not want to go to her funeral.' He covered his face with his hands. 'I feel like I didn't know her at all.'

 

'You must know something,' Jonathan observed, folding his legs into a lotus pose..  

 

George heaved a sigh.  'She was a librarian. So she'd always send me books.  Every month since I was three. Always something about math or science, but always books about things that were not math or science.  Lots of fiction. When I was six she sent me a copy of  _ Charlotte's Web _ .  And every night, she would call and read a chapter to me.'

 

'She sounds nice.'

 

'She knits.   _ Used _ to knit.  When I discovered Harry Potter, she made me a scarf in Ravenclaw colors.  I wore it until it fell apart. Then she made me another one. She makes --  _ made _ \--  my favorite toques.  They're always a little big, because I inherited Dad's head.  Always in my favorite color. And sends --  _ sent _ it to me for my birthday.'  George's blinked, and a tear slid from the corner of his eye into his hair.  'She'd listen to me go on about whatever I was doing for science fair. Last year she said she didn't understand a word I said, but she loved watching me talk about it.'  George moved to his side as his face crumpled and he squeezed his eyes shut. He took several deep breaths. 'She had schizophrenia. Which was one of the reasons why she didn't travel much.  And why we only went to see her once a year.' George swallowed hard. 

 

Jonathan straightened his legs and grabbed a tissue from the box on his headboard.  He pushed it into George's hand. 'Sounds like she was as involved as she could be.'

 

'Yeah.'  George sniffed and rubbed the tissue under his nose.  'Do you think she'd be upset I didn't go to her funeral?'

 

'Dunno.  You tell me.'  Jonathan stretched out on his side, facing George, his head pillowed on his arm.  

 

'Probably not,' George admitted.  'She hated it when people fussed, and knowing Aunt Amber, it's going to be lots of fuss…'

 

'Funerals are for the living, anyway,' Jonathan said, shrugging  'And if you didn't want to have this conversation around a bunch of other people.'

 

'I really didn't want to have his conversation around my cousins…'  George's lip curled in distaste.

 

'What's wrong with them?'  

 

'Nothing.  They're…  _ fine _ .'  George ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end.  'They think I'm kind of a freak, with all the science and math and engineering and the Ivy League college applications.  And the private school thing. I mean Wellington doesn't do normal high school stuff, so I can't talk about homecoming dances and football games and going to Dairy Queen after the school play.  Because Wellington plays lacrosse and Wellington boys and Abbot Hall girls don't go to Dairy Queen,' George groused. He inhaled slowly. 'But they can talk about how Grams was there for their birthdays, barbecues on the Fourth of July, high school graduations, basketball games, and came to their house on Christmas morning to watch them do the presents thing.'  George's lips pressed together in a thin line and his nostrils flared. He shuddered and tears began to trickle down the sides of his face. He rolled to his side, curling in on himself, weeping quietly into the duvet on Jonathan's bed. 

 

Jonathan haltingly slid a hand across the duvet and grasped George's hand in his own.  

 

*****

 

Nico knocked on the doorframe of Jonathan's bedroom.  'Hey guys. Lights out.' He contemplated waking them, but decided to leave things as they were.  He slipped into the bedroom, carefully removed the textbooks from the bed, set them on Jonathan's desk, then went back into the hallway and returned with two blankets.  He spread one over each sleeping teenager, noting the dried tearstains on George's cheeks. Nico lightly ran a hand over each of their heads, then turned off the light.

 


	7. Incandescent

George sat cross legged in the middle of the rumpled bed, his laptop open, and a printed draft of his master's thesis next to him, notes scribbled in the margins.  Jonathan handed him a large mug of tea, then perched on the tall kitchen stool with a bowl of granola, already dressed for the day. George cradled the mug between his hands, letting the warmth seep into them.  Jonathan hummed quietly to himself, his free hand dancing over phantom piano keys while he chewed. 'Let's get married,' George blurted.

 

Jonathan stopped chewing his cereal and swallowed it with a little bit of difficulty.  The granola was rather crunchy and he wasn't sure he'd heard George correctly. 'What?'

 

'Let's get married.'

 

Jonathan took another bite of his cereal, using the time it took to chew and swallow to process what George had just said.  'You know we're both kids, right? Or at least that's what our parents would say.'

 

'We're both legal adults,' George retorted.  'Let's do it in May after we graduate. Our families will be here.  We can go to the courthouse, then let them take us to a fancy dinner.'

 

'City Hall, huh?'

 

'Do you want something fussy?' George asked, trying to keep the trepidation from his voice.

 

'You mean like caterers and invitations and rabbis and chuppahs?'  Jonathan shook his head. 'God, no.' He stirred his spoon around the bowl, watching the milk swirl.  'But something nicer than an institutional office.' He set his half-eaten granola aside. 'What's the rush?  Why do want to do this in two months?'

 

'So we can apply for married student housing at Hopkins?'

 

Jonathan dumped the rest of his breakfast into the organics bin next to the sink and washed the bowl.  'That's a shitty reason to propose,' he said evenly.

 

George scrambled off their bed.  'That's not why, and you know it!'

 

Jonathan picked up his backpack.  'Maybe you should have started with that.'  He grabbed his coat and keys from a hook next to the door.  'I gotta go to Juilliard.'

 

'Jon…'

 

'I only get the performance hall from nine until eleven,' Jonathan said.  'My recital's in a month. I need the practice.' He unlocked the door. 'I'll see you later.'  He stalked out and barely managed to refrain from slamming it hard enough to rattle the hinges. 

 

'It's only seven thirty!' George shouted.  He whirled around and grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, then threw it at the wall.  He plopped back onto bed and picked up his thesis draft, twirling a pencil between his fingers.  He read through the notes from his advisor without registering what they said. George’s phone rang, and without looking to see who it was, he answered, 'Jonathan?'

 

'No,' a decidedly feminine voice said.  'It's your mother.'

 

George sat up.  'Is Dad okay?'

 

'Yeah, he's fine.'

 

'Then what are you doing up so early?'

 

'I was on-call.  Someone needed a splenectomy.'

 

'And you thought you'd call and say hi when you were done?'

 

'Yeah,' Jo said, as if it was completely normal.  'How's your thesis going?'

 

'Almost done.  Doing some editing.'

 

'How's Jonathan?'

 

'He's fine…  Why do you ask?'

 

'You sounded worried when you picked up phone.  Like you haven't heard from him since yesterday..'

 

'We got into a fight,' George admitted reluctantly.

 

'The two of you got into a fight?' Jo asked doubtfully.  'I thought you practically shared a brain.'

 

'Yeah.  Apparently I'm an idiot,' George said.  

 

Jo was silent for a very long moment.  'What did you do?'

 

‘Why do you assume it was me?’

 

‘Because Alex Karev is your father,’ Jo replied. 

 

'I said something stupid,' he said grudgingly.  'Dumb joke at the wrong time,' he sighed. 'Read the room, George,' he added under his breath.

 

'You are just like your father,' Jo snickered.  'You're going to have a lot of groveling to do later.'  

 

'Don't remind me,' George sighed.

 

Jo yawned widely.  'All right. I need a nap before I get to go terrorize some interns in the skills lab later.  Call me and let me know how things turn out.'

 

'Good night, Mom.'

 

'I mean it!' Jo exclaimed.  'Call me!'

 

'Bye, Mom…'  George dropped the phone on the bed and fell sideways, landing on Jonathan's pillow.  'I gotta get outta here,' he said, rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom. He took a hasty shower, then dressed and stuffed his laptop and thesis draft into his backpack and left. It didn't matter where he went, as long as it wasn't the apartment.

 

*****

 

Jonathan took his hands off the keys and clenched his fingers into fists, then stretched them out wide.  'One more time,' he murmured. He’d been saying “one more time” for the last hour.  _ Le Tombeau de Couperin _ was technically demanding, and he cursed himself for choosing it as a recital piece.  

 

'You know how many missed notes I just heard?' Trevor Rhee, a graduate student, who shared the practice room, stood in the doorway.

 

Jonathan looked up from the sheet music spread over the rack on the piano.  'Too many.' He began to massage his left hand. 

  
  


'How long have you been here?' 

 

Jonathan grabbed his phone and turned off the metronome app, then looked at the time.  'Six hours.' He switched hands, left massaging the right. 'Lost track of time.' He saw a message from George.  He'd sent it hours ago.  **_Working at the library.  Be home by 5._ ** He'd missed it.  

 

'Take the day off tomorrow.  And rest your hands. No piano at all.  Better yet, use your hands as little as possible,' Trevor advised.  'Been there more times than I'd like to admit.'

 

'That kinda limits what I can do.'

 

'You have a boyfriend, don't you?'

 

Jonathan clumsily gathered the sheet music and tucked it into a folder.  'Yeah.' Trevor gave Jonathan a knowing glance. 'George has a life and it does not include waiting on me hand and foot.'

 

'It won't kill you to ask for help.'  

 

Jonathan pulled his coat on and hoisted his backpack to his shoulders.  'Might.' Trevor stepped aside so Jonathan could leave. 'See you later.'

 

'Not tomorrow you won't.  If I see you step foot inside this room, I will kick your ass.'

 

'Bye, Trevor,' Jonathan called over his shoulder.  His hands did ache. It had been years since he'd practiced so much his hands cramped.  He'd done it his first year at Juilliard, when he felt he had to prove something to everyone else.

 

And when George had suggested marriage, Jonathan knew why.  He just wanted George to say it.

 

*****

 

George slid his key into the lock and opened the apartment door.  The scent of vanilla and cinnamon mixed with the smoky aroma of bacon wafted out to greet him.  Jonathan stood at the tiny stove layering slices of bacon onto a paper-towel lined plate. 'Are you cooking real bacon?' George asked.

 

'Mmm-hmmm.'  Jonathan opened the oven and pulled out a baking sheet, then distributed slices of French toast to waiting plates.

 

'And you made French toast.'

 

'Yeah.'

 

George set his backpack on the floor next to Jonathan's and unzipped his coat.  'I'm sorry about this morning,' he began, hanging his coat on its hook. 

 

Jonathan turned and set each plate on the cleared-off desk.  'George. Shut up. Eat your dinner while it's still hot.' He sat opposite George and toyed with his fork.  'My grandmother told me that you marry someone you can see standing with you when the worst thing happens. You've already done that.  Or at least the worst thing that's happened to me so far. I couldn't have made it through all those weeks waiting for a heart without you.  That's not hyperbole. And I can't picture any of the really awesome things that could happen to me without you.'

 

George dragged his fork through a puddle of syrup.  'You mean that?'

 

'I wouldn't say it if I didn't.'

 

'Jon…'

 

Jonathan cut a bite of French toast with his fork.  'George. Eat your dinner.' He chewed slowly and swallowed.  'You have the worst sense of humor sometimes.' His fork clattered against the plate, and he dropped it, flexing and stretching his fingers.  George dragged Jonathan's plate across the desk and cut his French toast into bite-sized pieces without a single comment, then pushed it back across the desk.  Jonathan stabbed piece of French toast. 'Thanks,' he mumbled.

 

'You overdid it today, didn't you?' George asked idly, forking a bite of French toast into his mouth.  

 

'A little,' Jonathan admitted reluctantly.

 

'I'll do the dishes.'

 

'The duh is silent,' Jonathan countered.  'I cooked.'

 

'I didn't mean what I said this morning,' George said tentatively.

 

Jonathan lifted a mug of mint tea to his lips.  'The proposal or the lame excuse for a joke?'

 

George winced.  'Ouch.' He picked up his own mug.  'The really, colossally idiotic, stupid, very bad joke.'  He sipped the tea. 'I'm sorry. I have my dad's sense of humor.'

 

Jonathan grinned.  'You can make it up to me with really amazing sex later.'

 

'Really amazing, huh?'

 

'I expect angels to weep, unicorns to prance in a circle around the building, stars to go supernova…'

 

'I can do that,' George said, with a cocky grin.

 

Jonathan stood up and hauled his sweater and henley over his head and dropped them to the floor.  'Prove it.'

 

*****

 

Jonathan turned his head, lips brushing delicately against George's neck.  He was breathing hard. So was George. 'That was pretty amazing,' Jonathan panted.  

 

George fumbled for a handful of tissues and swiped them over his stomach.  'So is that better than really amazing?'

 

Jonathan chortled sleepily.  'Hmmmmm. Yeah.' He laced his fingers through George's.  'Ask me again.'

 

'What?'  George blinked in bemusement.

 

'Ask me again.'

 

George shifted so he was lying on his side.  'You amaze me. You aren't afraid of anything.'  George smiled, and rubbed his nose against Jonathan's.  'Well, except spiders. But I don't blame you. They freak me out, too.'  Jonathan wrinkled his nose and the corner of his mouth turned up. 'When people have doubted you, because you're that kid from Seattle, it just makes you work harder.  Every performance, I get to sit in the audience and tell people you're  _ my _ boyfriend.  You don't back down from any challenges.  Not until you've given it everything you've got and then some.  And I love you so much, that I can barely breathe.' George ran his fingers through Jonathan's hair, then trailed them down the side of his face to his chest where his hand settled over the steady  _ thump _ of Jonathan's heartbeat.  'Jonathan… marry me.'

 

Jonathan's eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter.  'That's  _ so _ much better than this morning.'  He lifted his head just enough to kiss George.

 

'So…?'  George watched the smile spread over Jonathan's face.  It was practically incandescent.

 

'Yes.'

 


	8. R.S.V.P.

George leaned closer to Jonathan.  'Should we tell them?'

 

'As opposed to not telling them?'

 

'Is now a good time?' George sighed.  

 

Jonathan sipped his water, surreptitiously gazing around the table.  'Probably. They all have drinks.'

 

The corners of George's eyes crinkled.  'So if it's celebratory, they have a drink, and if it's disapproval, they have a drink.'

 

'Something like that,' Jonathan murmured.  He squeezed George's fingers under the table. ‘So do you want to say it or shall I?' 

 

‘Whichever one of us jumps into a lull in the conversation first?’ George suggested. 

 

‘Just blurt it out? We’re getting married Monday!’ Jonathan’s voice rang in the sudden silence. 

 

‘I’m sorry.  What?’ Alex said. 

 

George and Jonathan stilled, then slowly turned to face the rest of the table. George’s tongue inched over his dry lips. ‘We’re getting married. Monday morning at ten.’

 

‘Why?’ Levi gasped. ‘You’re barely twenty-two years old!’

 

‘Because he’s my best friend,’ Jonathan replied quietly. ‘Because I love him. Because he’s already been through one of the most horrible things that could happen to me, and he never once thought of leaving…’. Jonathan leaned forward toward Levi. ‘Papa… I get to marry my best friend… There’s nothing wrong with that.’

 

‘Of course there isn’t,’ Nico interjected. ‘It’s just… You’re young…’

 

George snorted.  'Oh, come on. We've known each other our entire lives.  We've been together for more than five years. Lived together for three.  It's not like we met last week.'

 

Alex took a long swallow of his beer.  'Is this why you're both going to Hopkins?'

 

'No.'  George took a deep breath.  'We did apply to schools that had good programs for both of us.  But if we hadn't been accepted to the same school, we would have dealt with it.'

 

Lily held out a hand palm up to Chris.  'You owe me fifty bucks.' 

 

Chris dug his wallet out and pulled out the money, and slapped it in her hand.  'How did you know?'

 

'They were talking about the programs they'd applied to at Hanukkah,' Lily said smugly.  'There was no way it was coincidence.' 

 

Jo settled back in her chair.  'Why Monday? Why not wait a few more months?'

 

Jonathan shot a look at her.  'Why not Monday?'

 

'You've really had enough time to plan for a wedding?' Levi asked skeptically.

 

'We're not having a big wedding,' George sighed, draining his beer.  'We really just wanted you guys. We've got a justice of the peace --'

 

'You're not having a Jewish wedding?' Levi exclaimed.  

 

'Because George isn't Jewish!' Jonathan protested.

 

Jo propped her elbows on the table and peered at her son.  'Have you thought about children?'

 

'At this moment?  No,' George replied shortly.  

 

'But do you want kids?' Alex pressed.

 

'Someday…?' Jonathan said.  'It's not like we have to decide right now.'

 

Alex chuckled.  'What would you even name them?  Schmitt-Kim-Karev is more than a mouthful…'  He sipped his beer. 

 

'Again,' George said through gritted teeth.  'We don't have to decide right now.' He laced his fingers through Jonathan's.  'We want this. We know exactly what we're getting into. We're both adults. We don't need your permission,' he finished defiantly.

 

'But we'd like your blessing,' Jonathan added beseechingly.  'Papa…? Dad…? Please?'

 

Levi shared a glance with Nico, his lips pressed together in a thin line.  Nico exhaled slowly and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Levi blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose.  'Okay.'

 

George looked at his parents.  'Mom? Dad?'

 

Alex shifted, but Jo laid a quieting hand on his forearm.  'Of course, honey. We just want you to be happy.' She sipped her wine.  'Monday at ten?'

 

'In Central Park,' Jonathan said hoarsely.  'A few of my classmates will play music and one of George's friends will take some pictures…'

 

'We've had two examples of good marriages,' George said firmly.  'It hasn't always been easy, but you've made it work.'

 

'Well, then.'  Alex held up his glass and cleared his throat.  'To George and Jonathan.'

 

*****

 

Alex sat on the foot of the bed in their hotel room.  'You think George would mind if I called Mere and invited her to the wedding?'

 

Jo poked her head out of the bathroom.  'No.' She joined Alex on the bed.

 

Alex thumbed through his contacts until he came to Meredith's number.  He leaned back one one hand, waiting for her to pick up. 'Hey, Alex.'

 

'You busy?'

 

'Just making some post-op notes.'

 

'Can you get to New York Sunday?'

 

Meredith pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it.  'Why?'

 

'George is getting married on Monday.'

 

'Lemme check a few things,' Meredith said absently.  She hummed lightly as she scrolled through her schedule.  'I have a few surgeries I can push or have someone else do.'

 

'Okay, great.  I'll reserve a room for you.  The Plaza. Text me your flight details.'

 

'Will do.  Oh, wait!'

 

'What?'

 

'How dressy?'

 

'It's in a freakin' park.'

 

'You almost got married in a park,' Meredith pointed out.  'It was pretty dressy.'

 

'Just wear something nice.'

 

'Okay.  Are we talking cocktail attire or the dress I wore to Ellie's graduation?'

 

'What did you wear to Ellie's graduation?'

 

'That blue thing.'

 

'Oh, right.  Yeah. Sure.'

 

Meredith handed the tablet to a nurse.  'You just found out about this tonight, didn't you?'

 

Alex flopped back onto the bed.  'Yeah.'

 

'How do you feel about it?'

 

Alex sighed gustily.  'George is a grown man.  He can make his own decisions.'

 

'How do you feel?' Meredith repeated emphatically.

 

'He seems so sure.  And I thought…' Alex's jaw worked for a moment, searching for the words.  'I thought I was sure with Izzie. And I'm scared that George thinks he's sure about this, but…'

 

'Not even the same situation!' Jo exclaimed.  'Izzie had cancer. You thought she was dying.  Jonathan isn't dying.'

 

'What she said,' Meredith added.  'This is a completely different situation.'  She walked into the attendings' lounge. 'Is he going to get married with or without you?'

 

'Yes!' Jo said loudly.

 

'Yeah,' Alex said grudgingly.

 

'Then shut up and go to the wedding.  Give him a nice present and dance at the reception.'  Meredith toed off her surgical clogs. 'I'll get a plane ticket before I go to bed.  When is the wedding, exactly?'

 

'Monday at ten!' Jo said promptly.

 

'You know, George is so your kid,' Meredith commented.  'Getting married in a public park with a justice of the peace, and nobody else?  That's something you both would have done. I mean, you did get married on a ferry.  By me.'

 

'Good night, Mere…'  Alex hung up and gazed up at Jo.  'How do you feel about all this?'

 

'It's a little sudden, but…'  Jo shrugged expansively. 'It's not sudden.  You remember what he was like when Jon was on the transplant list.  You had to force him to go home at night.'

 

'I can't believe he kept it a secret,' Alex huffed.  

 

*****

 

Levi nudged Jonathan.  'Is that bookstore still open?'

 

'The one by Union Square?'

 

'Yeah.'

 

Jonathan looked at his watch.  'Yeah… they stay open pretty late.'

 

'Oh.  Good. I forgot to bring my book and I need something to read,' Levi declared.

 

'You did?' Nico murmured with a quizzical frown.  Levi returned the look, with slightly raised brows.  'Oh. Right. You did. Complained the entire flight from Seattle.'

 

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' Jonathan muttered under his breath.  Both of his dads were terrible liars. 'Let's go, Papa…' He stepped into Nico's embrace.  'I'll see you tomorrow, Dad.' He gave Chris a fist bump, then hugged Lily. He and Levi set off down the sidewalk to the subway station.  'You're a bad liar,' Jonathan commented. 

 

'I need a book.'

 

'You do not.  You just wanted to get me alone to talk.'  Jonathan glared at Levi.

 

'Talking to you is a side benefit,' Levi replied blandly.  He stepped into the subway and found a seat. 

 

Jonathan dropped into the seat next to Levi's.  'Are you upset that we won't have a rabbi and a chuppah, like you and Dad?'

 

'A little.  It doesn't make you any less married, though.  I wish you'd told us sooner.'

 

Jonathan loosened his tie.  'We wanted to tell you in person.  And we didn't want a big fuss.' He leaned against Levi.  'I had to talk George into the park. He would do it in City Hall, if it was all up to him.'

 

'Jon, honey…  Between you and me…  Are you sure this is what you want?'

 

Jonathan stood up.  'Our stop is next,' he said.  He led Levi off the subway, up to the street, and into the bookstore, bustling even at this late hour.   

 

The speed with which Levi grabbed a seemingly random paperback off a shelf belied his statement that he'd left his book at home.  'I feel like a cup of coffee…' Levi said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. 

 

'There's a place across the street,' Jonathan said, gesturing to the small where coffee shop George liked to study.  'Although, I think you ought to get herbal tea.'

 

'And we can talk?' Levi asked, crossing the street.

 

Jonathan opened the door.  'Sure.' He motioned to the tables.  'Why don't you save us a seat, and I'll get the drinks?'

 

'Camomile, please.'  Levi said, flipping through the book.  

 

Jonathan ordered two camomile teas and set them on the tiny table near a window.  'Okay, what did you want to say?'

 

Levi laid the book aside and picked up his tea.  'I didn't want to take you at first,' he began. 

 

Jonathan stared at him in open-mouthed shock.  'W-why are you telling me this?' he stammered.

 

Levi calmly continued.  'Nico took one look at you, and that was it.  That Boston Bruins onesie?'

 

'Yeah…?'

 

'He ordered it before we'd even been approved to be your foster parents.  He held you and he  _ knew _ .  It took me a few more days.'  Levi sipped his tea. 'It wasn't a hard decision.  It was the easiest decision I've ever made, after marrying your dad.'

 

Jonathan's hands clenched around the mug, the heat from the ceramic painful against his palms.  'Why would you tell me this?'

 

'If you have kids, you might adopt.  And I want you to know that it doesn't happen for everyone, like it did with Nico.  And that's okay.'

 

'We're not even --'

 

'Not now, no.  But someday. And if you wait for the perfect time, it will never happen.  I was about to start my fellowship when we took you home. I don't think I was that sleep deprived even when I was an intern.  The perfect time doesn't exist.' He reached across the table and gripped Jonathan's hand. 'It took having you, and then Chris to realize that.'

 

'Did you regret having us?'

 

'Oh, Jonathan… no.  You're the light of my life,' Levi said.

 

'You say that to all of us,' Jonathan scoffed, not unkindly.

 

'And it's true,' Levi said, blinking back sudden tears.  'And you grew up so fast. You're graduating Saturday, then getting married.  It seems like last month that you were this tiny baby in a too-big onesie, staring up at Nico and me from the carrier.'

 

Jonathan sniffed and rubbed his nose.  'You say this now. Wait until I call you from the bathroom, bitching about how George has used every damn mug in the kitchen and hasn't bothered to wash any of them.'

 

'You dad takes off his socks right before he gets into bed.  So he has this pile of socks that he only picks up once a week or so.'  Levi's eyes narrowed. 'It drives me crazy.' He took a long sip of his tea.  'Marriage is a choice. And you make that choice every day.'

 

Jonathan grinned.  'I know. Who do you think I learned it from?'  


	9. The Boy I'm Gonna Marry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex let out a soft bark of laughter. 'You've heard all the stories about the complete disaster that was our wedding,' he said with a glance at Jo, whose head tilted to the side while she fastened an earring. 'The fact that no one got food poisoning on top of the wedding planner going into anaphylactic shock was a minor miracle.' He picked up the other cufflink. 'None of it matters.'

George stood in front of the mirror and began to weave his tie into a half-Windsor knot.  He settled the knot at the base of his throat and the grin on his face faded as he glanced down.  The wider end of the tie resided somewhere between his sternum and belly button, while the thinner end dangled over his belt buckle.  'Crap,' he muttered, and yanked the knot apart.

'Gimme that,' Alex huffed, batting George's hands out of the way.  Alex turned George to face him and began the process of tying the knot.  'You're not doing a whole matching thing, are you?' he asked, his face set in lines of distaste,  adjusting the tie until the ends hung to his satisfaction before actually tying it.

'We got rings and boutonnieres,' George murmured, lifting his chin.  'Matching ties would just be a bit much for us.'

'Nervous?' Alex asked, sliding the knot up to rest between the points of George's collar.  He picked up the cufflinks resting on the table and motioned for George to hold out a wrist.  

'Some,' George admitted, watching Alex thread one cufflink through the buttonholes of the cuff.  'Not about marrying Jon, though. Just thinking of everything that could go wrong today. It could rain.  The JP won't show up. I'll trip and tear my pants. What if his ring doesn't fit? What if my ring doesn't fit…?'

Alex let out a soft bark of laughter.  'You've heard all the stories about the complete disaster that was our wedding,' he said with a glance at Jo, whose head tilted to the side while she fastened an earring.  'The fact that no one got food poisoning on top of the wedding planner going into anaphylactic shock was a minor miracle.' He picked up the other cufflink. 'None of it matters.'

'I know.'  

Alex grabbed George's other wrist.  'I know you know.' The other cufflink fastened, Alex reached for the suit jacket and held it out.  George slid his arms into the sleeves and rotated his shoulders to settle the jacket over them. Alex picked up the boutonniere, a simple spray of evergreen behind tiny white flowers.  He gave it a delicate sniff before pinning it to George's lapel. 'Fir?'

George's fingertips lightly brushed over the fragrant green needles.  'We wanted a bit of Seattle in the wedding.'

Alex stepped back.  'Ready?'

George patted his jacket pocket, pulled out the small box and flipped back the lid.  Jonathan's wedding band glimmered against the dark velvet. 'Yes.'

* * *

Meredith gestured to George and Jonathan all but slow dancing in the corner with her glass of champagne.  'You know... they're way more mature than we were at that age.'

'We were mature!' Alex protested.

'No.  We weren't.'  Meredith sat back and took a sip of the champagne, wrinkling her nose a little at the fizziness.  'We put our lives on hold at eighteen to study to get into med school. Then another four years studying to get into a residency.  Then five or six more years… Remember that old intern that had a stroke? Norman? He said we were teenagers running around with scalpels.'  She fixed Alex with a knowing look. 'Who slept with attendings.'

'It was only two,' Alex responded, popping a mini quiche into his mouth.

'Who else besides Addison?' Meredith asked, the line between her brows deepening.  

'That fellow, Lucy, who went to Africa after our fourth year,' he reminded Meredith.

'Oh, right…'  

Nico snorted derisively.  'Speak for yourself.' He took a slow sip of champagne.  'I'm the only one here who didn't sleep with an attending as a resident.'

'Yeah, right,' Alex grunted.  

'Nope.  Just one other resident.'

'Wasn't he chief resident?' Levi asked.

'Irrelevant.  Still not an attending,' Nico said loftily.

'Oh, please,' Jo huffed.  'You're the attending who not only slept with a resident, you did it during his intern year.'  

'Didn't you strip in the interns' locker room to get Schmitt's attention?' Meredith added, while Jo gave Nico, then Levi a wide-eyed look.

'I took off my shirt.  It was hardly stripping.'  Nico rolled his eyes.  

'And it worked,' Levi added smugly.  He studied Jonathan and George, their heads close together, bathed in late afternoon sunlight.  'At least they know who they are,' Levi said. 'I didn't know anything about myself when I was their age.'

'None of us did,' Meredith murmured.  


End file.
